


Phil's Permission

by Comixgal



Series: He's our Ward [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Caning, Dom!Coulson, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Major Character Injury, Punishment, Self-Worth Issues, Spanking, Sub!Ward, Subspace, Ward is everyone's sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comixgal/pseuds/Comixgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is injured during a mission. Ward blames himself. Coulson isn't having any of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

Everything was quiet. The lack of chattering downstairs grated on Coulson’s nerves. The last mission had gone decidedly pear-shaped and his team was hurting.

Melinda May was in the cockpit. Jemma was running tests. Fitz was hovering enough to make a nuisance out of himself. Skye was lying on a medical table, loopy on pain pills and not allowed to sleep. Ward was alone in his bunk, quietly falling apart at the seams.

Each one of them had knocked on Grant's door, hoping they'd be the one he'd answer. None of them would intrude on the privacy he so desperately wanted but they all knew he was destroying what little peace he’d developed while on their team.

Coulson took off his glasses with a frown. He couldn’t let the man spiral any further. “Agent Ward, please report to my office.” He announced through the Bus’s antiquated intercom system.

In the labs, all three younger agents heaved a sigh of relief. Melinda winced in sympathy for Coulson, who was taking on the hardest part of post-mission debriefs.

“Think I should go help?” Fitz asked quietly.

Simmons shook her head. “He’ll call if he needs you.”

Skye stared at the ceiling as if wishing for x-ray vision. She wanted to be up there, taking care of Grant.

“You’ll see him later.” The biochemist told Skye, upping the dosage of pain meds slightly. “For now, try to focus on something else.”

Fitz had fled to his side of the lab to work on a small robot. He gave them both a half-hearted smile before turning to engross himself in the project.

***

Phil gave Ward a small nod. “I’m glad you’re back, Agent Ward. Report.”

Standing at parade rest, the younger man told his side of the story in a wooden, lifeless voice.

After asking some clarifying questions, Coulson put down his pen and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.”

“I’ll gather my things and leave wherever we touch down next.” Ward said. He belatedly added, “Sir,” Mistaking the purpose of Coulson’s raised eyebrows.

“Pardon?”

“I’m leaving the team, sir.” Ward repeated, looking at the wall instead of the face that he knew held pity and anger.

“Why?”

Grant swallowed heavily. “I let down the team. Skye is injured. Civilians died. We barely completed the mission. I’m a liability to you all.”

“You do not have my permission to leave.”

He took a deep breath, having prepared for this. “Agent Coulson, I know you must be angry and I will accept any sanctions or punishments you wish but-”

“I’m not angry, Grant.” Phil interrupted. When the other man merely stared at him, he continued. “How many times did Skye try to remove her vest?”

“Four, sir.”

“Why?”

Ward shrugged. “She said that it was too hot, that it limited her maneuverability, that she couldn’t type as quickly in it.”

Phil nodded, “And how many times did you force her to keep it on?”

“Four, sir.”

“I see. Tell me, agent, what would have happened if she hadn’t been wearing the vest?”

Ward’s worst nightmare. “She’d be dead, sir. The bullet would have gone straight through her.”

“And if that had happened, with whom would I be angry? Think carefully.”

He took a long moment to consider the question, “The shooter, sir?”

“Yes, and the gun manufacturer, and the terrorists that programmed a bomb only Skye could disarm, and the civilians that let those people live in their community, and the various worldwide organizations that ignored it, and myself, and on down an extremely long list that does not include your name.”

“But-”

“Is Skye dead, Agent Ward?”

“No, sir.”

“Her vest protected her from the bullet?”

“Yes, sir. But she has 3 cracked ribs and a concussion from the fall.”

Phil smiled slightly, “So instead of a funeral, we just have to put up with a bored hacker for a few days?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Given that knowledge. With whom should I be angry?” Coulson’s eyebrow went up inquisitively.

“Skye got shot, sir! That was my fault! I should have known there’d be a shooter in the room.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Agent Ward. I have no reason to be angry with you. Furthermore, you stated in your report that you were in the process of surveying the room at the moment you heard the shot.” When the younger agent only nodded, he continued, “So what you’re telling me is that you should have known that a shooter was sitting behind that particular pallet of goods instead of one of the thirty other pallets?”

“I should have cleared the room first, sir.”

"You stated in your report that you had only ten minutes left on the countdown."

"Yes, sir." It was easier to stick to simple responses.

"Didn't Skye say she would need at least fifteen minutes to hack the system?"

"Yes, sir. I should have gotten her there faster." 

“While the impossibility of that predicament sinks in, let me add this: You were alone because our contacts on the ground were cowards. You got yourself and Skye into a protected facility with enough time for Skye to disarm the bomb before getting shot. You both deserve commendations. She would have been dead long before entering the warehouse if you hadn’t been there. You do not have my permission to leave the team. Is that understood?”

“No sir. You don’t understand! I can’t stay! I should have been shot, not Skye. If someone had to be hurt, it should have been me.”

"Enough of this." His voice hardened, “I have reports to finish, Agent Ward. While I am working, you will sit on that couch,” he pointed, “And think about what you’ve just said. Then you will write a letter explaining why I am suddenly quite furious with you.”

Stricken, Ward obeyed the pointed finger and accepted the pad of paper. 

With all appearance of forgetting about Ward, Coulson sat down to his computer. From the corner of his eye he watched the man start and stop writing several times. Ward stared at him for a long time, confused and hurt by this new form of punishment.

When Phil finally made eye-contact with him, he flinched, turned, then looked back to find the older man still watching. There wasn’t anger in Coulson’s face anymore, it was filled with many other things, but not anger.


	2. Chapter 2

Agent Coulson nodded to himself as Ward started writing again. He briefly considered sending a message for Fitz to join them. No one was better than Fitz at bringing their boy down quickly. There was something about the relationship between the two men that allowed Ward to let go during their sessions. It might have been how physically unassuming Fitz was; Ward knew the scientist posed no real threat. Or it could be how certain Fitz was of his dominance, never questioning that Ward would obey.

But no. He would bring Ward down slowly and on his own. The writing assignment was a good start, judging by the quiet sniffling he could hear.

With the last report signed and sent back to Fury and the Hub, Phil carefully examined the other agent. He was curled up on the couch, writing quickly and surreptitiously wiping away tears. He startled when Phil approached.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” He hunched further.

“Why am I angry, Grant?” Phil asked.

“Because I’m an important part of the team. Because my safety and health isn’t worth less than Skye’s, or anyone else’s. Because we all know the risks when we take on a mission. Because I can’t blame myself for circumstances beyond my control.”

“That’s right.” He searched the red-rimmed eyes. “I need to gather some supplies. When I return, you will be naked and wearing the leather cuffs from the top drawer.”

“Are you going to tell the others, sir?” Ward said, fear evident, even as he was following the order to undress.

“I’m going to check on Skye. Be ready when I come back.” Phil left the room with a nod towards the drawer.

***

They surrounded him as he walked down the stairs.

“How is ‘e?” Fitz’s accent was thick with worry. “What can we do?”

“Do you need anything?” Jemma asked.

May leaned against the wall, “What’s your plan?”

He smiled into their attentive faces, “I’m taking care of him. How’s Skye?”

“I’m letting her sleep.” The doctor said. “She’ll be fine. She’d be dead if not for him.” Simmons hugged Phil, needing some reassurance about the last twenty-four hours.

He squeezed her hard and kissed her cheek. When Coulson turned around, Melinda May was standing close by, holding a few floggers and a whip.

She watched him move, knowing he would put aside his fatigue for Grant’s sake. “I conditioned the leather yesterday. I’ll be up late if you want to talk.” She refused to hand over the tools until the man acknowledged her words.

Coulson gave himself the luxury of walking slowly back up the stairs.

“Coulson! Wait.” Fitz rushed up the stairs like an ungainly colt. “Use the cane instead of the whip.” He said quickly. “It’ll bring him down smoother. Trust me.”

Phil pulled the scientist in for a deep kiss. “I always do. Thank you.” He leaned over the railing, “Take care of one another.”

***

Grant was gorgeous. The sight of him kneeling, arms clasped behind his back, showing off the tanned expanse of muscles always took Phil’s breath away. The sub’s head was bowed, eyes closed.

“Stand. Arms up.” Phil clipped the cuffs together and attached them to a convenient hook in the ceiling. “Safeword?”

“Shield.”

“Do you understand why I’m doing this?”

“Yes, sir.” Grant hung his head.

“Eyes up.” Phil said, “I want your eyes on me at all times unless I’m not in your field of vision. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Be good for me, Grant. I know you can.” He paused. “Acknowledge.”

“I-” Grant hesitated. He didn’t know if he could acknowledge the dom’s words. He’d let down the team. He’d let down Skye. He wasn’t good.

Coulson used the tip of the flogger to lift Grant’s head. “Eyes on me. I know you can be good. Don’t turn this into a punishment, Grant. You _are_ good. You’re amazing and we’re lucky to have you. If you’re craving pain, you ask for it. I won’t have you disobeying me just to prove a point.”

“Yes, sir.” He remembered, just in time, not to lower his eyes.

“You don’t need to count because I don’t know how many you’ll be getting.” Coulson started with the flogger against the broad back. There were no warm-up strokes. Each time the strands dropped, they punched the wind out of the sub. The pain layered quickly into a burning heat.

“I’m switching to another one.” Coulson warned though Grant was barely able to lift his head. This one would feel like tiny points of pain on the already sore back. The small knots at the end of each strand could break the skin if the user wasn’t careful.

Ward shouted at the unexpected sensation. Then he settled into the experience, pulling on the chain above him to better present his ass.

The dom debated reprimanding him for moving. He decided against the admonition; they had much further to go. “I’ll be using the cane on your ass, Ward.”

The full-body shiver and moan that met those words made it clear that the agent had grown hard in the last few minutes. He twitched, looking for friction.

The cascade of pain followed by endorphins had the sub’s body completely confused. Every nerve was firing and he knew he was close to tears.

“Two more floggers.” Coulson gave him ten strikes with each, enjoying the different responses to the distinct types of pain. “You’re doing so well.”

The man’s eyes rolled back slightly. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” His head dropped between his shoulders.

“You’re welcome, Ward. I’m bringing out the cane.”

Grant shuddered. He hated being caned. He especially hated being caned on his ass. The white-hot strips of pain were his undoing. His screams were loud enough to fill the plane. Each time the thin wood hit, the sound of his howls added to the reverberation of blood throbbing in his ears. As sounds became harder to distinguish, so did the individual sensations. Every stroke brought him deeper to a place beyond the spikiness of his self-disgust.

Ward didn’t immediately notice that the caning had stopped. His mind was busy reminding him that he had orders to obey - If only he could remember what they were.

“Very good.” Coulson whispered into his ear. The praise made the sub shiver. “We’re not done yet. I’m going to release your arms. I want you over the desk.” He caught Ward’s weight over his shoulders.

The taller man sagged before slowly getting himself back under control. He whimpered when his still-hard cock rubbed against Phil’s pants. A sharp smack against his ass left him gasping. He stumbled quickly over to the desk.

“Good. Fingers over the edge.” Coulson considered his next move. Changing positions had brought the man up a little and Phil needed to bring him back down. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, sir.” The speech was a little slurred but still lucid.

“I’m giving you a choice. Ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Ward struggled to focus on the man’s words.

“You can get twenty-five smacks from my hand and twenty-five from the paddle or an alcohol wipe.”

Ward didn’t want either of those! Tears ran down his face as he silently considered to two options. “I can’t. Please don’t.”

Phil’s silence ratcheted up his anxiety.

“Eyes closed.”

Solid fingers scrubbed through his hair and massaged downward to the nape. Once there, they started over again. It felt like each fingertip was hitting a pressure release valve in his skull. The unexpected reprieve from more pain quieted the voices that had been questioning his value. Phil cared for him. They cared for one another. This time, the hot tears came from a place of acceptance.

“That’s right.” Coulson ran a hand down Ward’s side. “You’re okay. I’m here.” He maneuvered the sub onto a thick exercise mat that he’d put out on the floor. “I don’t like hurting you when you don’t want it.” He whispered. “You’re such a good boy. I always knew you’d be good; good for me, good for the team. Such a beautiful, intelligent, strong, boy. So good for me. Aren’t you, Ward?”

Surely the man knew how those words affected him. He was nodding, ready to give anything, do anything for Coulson. “Yes, sir.”

“What do you need? What does my good boy need from me?”

Grant moaned as he pressed his ass into Coulson’s leg. The welts stung but the new rush of endorphins made him that much more eager.

“Use your words. What do you need?” Phil continued his massage of the sub’s head.

“You sir. Need you in me. Please?”

“I’ll be right back.” Phil said softly. “Drink while I’m gone.” He put a straw by the man’s lips.

In the mental space Ward now inhabited, the agent was gone for mere seconds and an eternity. His mind was wandering while the only thing that seemed real was the smooth glide of water down his throat. He could hear Phil gathering items around the room then turn back to him.

“Hips up.” Phil helped the sub roll over. He didn’t refrain from teasingly stroking the hard cock a few times just to hear Ward moan. As the boy bucked into his hand, he put a large foam pillow under the hips for better access. “Good boy.” 

A slick finger found its way down his back and between his smarting ass cheeks. Ward held his breath, knowing that Phil liked to take his time with this process. He gasped when a hand reached under him to pinch a nipple.

“Breathe.”

“Sorry, sir.” The sensations were overwhelming. Another finger had joined the first and he was finally being stretched open. They pushed deeper. The stinging stretch added to the confusing layers of pain and pleasure that were cascading over him. He tried, just once, to get more friction on his cock and sobbed when Phil pulled away entirely. “Please, sir! Please. I’m sorry. So sorry. Please.”

The dom brought his hand down ten times on the sensitive skin where thigh and ass met. Then, without another word, he went back to stretching the boy. He pushed deeper inside, moving his fingers to catch every sensitive spot. When Grant was keening with need, he added a third finger. Ward was radiating heat, not just from his back and ass but from his desperate need to cum. He was so close to ignoring every order he’d been given, just to achieve release. Phil didn’t want to be in a position to punish him again. 

When Ward was certain he couldn’t take anymore, the dom removed his fingers.

“Hands.” Phil ordered. He connected the cuffs behind Ward’s back, forcing him to support himself with his shoulders. “Good boy.”

Comprehension was quickly slipping away from Ward. He tried desperately to hold on to the words, to the awareness. Giving in completely terrified him. He tensed, preparing to struggle when a warm hand wrapped around his nape.

“I’m here, Ward. You’re mine. That’s it. Relax. I’m going to take care of you. You’re my good boy, right?”

The sub nodded into the mat. He couldn’t do anything else. Coulson had taken everything except the pain and the pleasure which were right now whirling around him to form a beautiful ecstasy. Spread out like he was, on display for the man behind him, he belonged entirely to the dom.

“You can take it,” Phil said, “You’re going to take everything for me and then, when I give my permission, you can cum. Do you have anything to say?”

Ward didn’t want an out. He wanted the man to keep taking until he had nothing left to give, until he was empty of all blame and self-doubt. He shook his head.

“That’s a good boy,” he heard Phil say. “Are you ready for me, Ward?”

“Yes,” Grant replied, the words barely there between needy sobs, “Yes, sir.” He could feel time slow down. Phil was pressing into him. The pressure on his back hurt. His ass was screaming at being touched. And every second of it felt like bliss.

“You’re going to feel me for days, aren’t you?” Phil asked, voice breathy as he controlled himself. “Every time you sit, every time you move, you’re going to feel me here, owning you, claiming you.”

Phil’s thick cock was stretching him open. He loved being full. This was all Ward needed. Every thought, every feeling was crowded out of his head by the enormity of the experience. When Phil began to pump in and out, Ward’s breath caught. The strokes past his prostate sparked bright light behind his eyes indistinguishable from the sparks of pain at the roughness of Coulson’s shirt and pants against his skin.

“Shhhh.” Phil hushed. “It’s almost over.” He sped up, fucking roughly into the tight ass. When his thrusts lost rhythm, he stilled, and shot deep inside the trembling sub. “So good.” Coulson panted.

Ward whimpered when Coulson pulled out, leaving him cold and empty. He shook against the mat, trying desperately not to beg for the last words he needed to hear.

“One last thing.” Phil pushed a plug into the sub. Then his slick fingers found their way between the legs. It took only three pumps of his hand to have Ward completely lost. “Cum now.”

Ward was floating. Everything was warm, everything felt amazing. And then, as the hand squeezed up and down his length, the last waves crashed down.

***

Coulson stayed with him as he slowly rose out of subspace. He’d been cleaned and then covered with a soft blanket. Coulson was never more than a few feet away as the world slowly resolved itself into its component parts. A cup of hot coffee appeared next to him just when he was feeling awake enough to need it. He sat crosslegged on the mat with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Every move reminded him of the last few hours but with it came a sense of peace.

Coulson joined him on the mat, also drinking a cup of coffee. “Not that you ever really needed it but, after you tell the others about trying to leave, and plan a training program for Skye that includes working in her vest,” He kissed Ward deeply, “if you still want it, you have my permission to leave.”

Ward leaned into him; permission or not, he wasn’t going anywhere.


End file.
